She liked thinking Andrew was on her side, that he was protecting her from the fallout. Whether that was true or not, good things were happening career-wise, and she was determined to enjoy it while it lasted.
Celia staked out permanent space on the right side of Theo’s double vanity. Makeup, cleansers, toothbrush. Everything she’d need for those days when Theo talked her into a spur-of-the-moment overnight stay. Or a longer one, she conceded, eyeing the open suitcase in the closet behind her. She had no intention of returning home until Monday.
Theo had taken her suggestion to kick off their weekend on Thursday as fact, setting up an impromptu NBA draft party. The sportscasters were in a frenzy over rumors Atlanta’s District Attorney’s office was considering sexual assault charges against four players, one of them Ruben Vargas. How far would Frazier and Caldwell fall in the draft?
It was also a coming out party, since Theo had invited several of her co-workers, including both of her law partners and everyone working on the Hayley Burkhart case. Tonight they would announce their relationship.
She aimed to impress in black leggings and a sleeveless white tunic, with gold sandals showing off her deep red pedicure. Classy but casual. Though she was pleased with her overall look, it did little to calm her nerves. Her concern wasn’t what they’d think of her, but how they’d feel about Theo seeing someone who’d brought them a case.
The phone rang as Theo was stepping out of the shower. “That’s the caterer. Can you let them in? I’ll be out in five minutes.”
Celia supervised the arrangement of a Southern feast—pulled pork and all the trimmings. By the time they finished, Theo arrived to sign the receipt and fork over a generous tip.
“This is enough to feed an army, Theo. How many did you say were coming?”
“Probably only five or six. Kendra and Rob couldn’t get a sitter. And Jalinda—that’s my paralegal—she doesn’t usually go in for social things with people from the office. The only reason she comes to the Christmas party is because that’s when I hand out bonuses.”
They set out dinnerware, then carried the love seats from the bedroom and terrace into the living area, arranging all the seating so everyone could see the large-screen TV. It was already set to the sports station but muted.
After three days of incessant sports chatter, there was nothing new to be said. Tonight would tell if the allegations were enough to torpedo the players’ draft stock. In response to news about the DA’s office opening an investigation, the Department of Justice had released a statement saying it too was monitoring events.
“Did you read Ivan Wallace’s column in the paper today?” Celia asked. “It’s just bizarre to think the public is divided over this. But I’m not surprised. Jocks get away with anything.”
“I doubt what they’re printing is representative,” Theo scoffed. “The sportswriters go looking for quotes from Average Joes to fill up space in their story. If they talk to a supporter, they feel like they have to include a critic too. They don’t tell you how many people they have to talk to so they can scrounge up someone willing to turn a blind eye to a gang rape. What they print or put on the air always makes it look fifty-fifty. It’s misleading as hell, but that perception becomes reality. On the other hand, as long as there’s conflict, our story stays on the front page.”
The phone rang again and Celia anxiously checked herself in the foyer’s full-length mirror. It was silly to be so nervous about meeting new people, but there was a lot at stake tonight. If Theo’s friends were put off about them seeing each other, it could drive a serious wedge into their relationship.
Theo pressed the entry code for the security door downstairs. “They’re all here. Gloria says they’ve been fighting over the guest parking spaces in the garage.”
“You told them we were seeing each other, right? What did they say?”
“I think they were glad to hear it if you want to know the truth. It’s good for office morale if the boss is happy.” She pulled Celia into a kiss. “Besides, no matter what they think, they’ll pretend to love you because they know I can fire them if they don’t.”
First through the door was a paunchy man who carried a six-pack of bottled beer. “I figured you’d put out wine and cheese, Theo,” he said mockingly. “I wanted to be sure you had the good stuff.” Offering his other hand to Celia, he introduced himself as Hank Maloney.
Celia recalled his name as the investigator Theo had mentioned. The young man with him was his son Mark, mid-thirties and clean shaven with glasses. He wore khakis and a T-shirt that read
BYTE ME
.
Theo nudged forward an elegant woman in her sixties, dressed in a flowing orange pantsuit that nearly matched the color of her hair. Celia recognized her immediately. “Oh, my gosh. You’re Gloria Hendershot. You used to chair the Women’s Studies department at Harwood. I audited one of your classes about ten years ago.” Looking to Theo, she added, “You never told me she worked with you.”
The woman covered a brief look of bewilderment with a smile. “I’m Theo’s best kept secret. Did I put you to sleep in my class?”
There was no reason Dr. Hendershot would have remembered her, not among the thousands of women she’d taught in her long career. “Not at all. I’ve read both of your books. They’re wonderful.”
With the determination of a border collie, Theo herded the group into the living area. “All right, introductions. You’ve met Hank and Mark, and you know Gloria. This is her husband Lewis.”
Lewis was slim and as well-dressed as his wife, in slacks and a polo shirt with a sport coat. He greeted her with the charm of a Southern gentleman.
“And this is one of my law partners, Philip.” A handsome, tanned man in his forties with a younger, very pregnant woman on his arm. Theo placed a hand on the woman’s stomach. “This is his wife Sofia and their soon-to-be daughter, Theo.”
Philip interjected, “Theo’s convinced we’re going to name the baby after her.”
“Well, why not?” Celia mustered. “The Theo I know turned out pretty solid.”
Theo seemed genuinely pleased to greet the last guest, a young woman who apparently had come by herself. “And this is Jalinda Smiley, hands down the best paralegal in Atlanta.”
Jalinda
Doesn’t
Smiley was more like it. A round-figured African-American with faint freckles, she looked positively miserable to be there.
“And this lovely lady, in case you haven’t figured it out,” Theo said as she draped an arm around Celia’s shoulder, “is Celia Perone.
Doctor
Celia Perone. Professor of performance studies at Harwood, and the person who brought us Hayley Burkhart’s case. She’s also near and dear to my heart, so please try to make a good impression. I don’t want her sneaking out with her suitcase after she’s met my friends.”
Hank answered cheerfully, “Here, Celia. Have a beer.”
Cheap domestic beer wouldn’t have been her first choice, but she wasn’t about to refuse and risk anyone thinking her a snob.
“Grab a plate,” Theo commanded. “The NBA draft starts any minute.”
The mound of food fell steadily as they filled their plates and carried them into the TV area. The selection show had begun with a slate of prospective draftees and their families abuzz in Madison Square Garden. Sacramento was already on the clock with five minutes to make the night’s first pick.
As hosts, Celia and Theo waited until everyone was seated. That left them with chairs on opposite wings of the room. Hank had squeezed onto the couch with Gloria and Lewis, leaving his son to sit with Jalinda on the terrace love seat. Celia caught Theo looking at the pair with a faint smile.
“Look at that,” Philip said. “Frazier’s strutting around like it’s business as usual. He must be pretty confident he’s going to get picked.”
Confident didn’t begin to describe his swagger. He wore a designer suit that probably had been purchased by a booster, and sported a diamond stud in his ear. Laughing, back-slapping.
“He makes me sick,” Celia said. “I’m telling you right now, if he has a good night, I’ll have a miserable one.”
Lewis Hendershot, who worked as a corporate attorney, said, “I heard on sports talk radio that Caldwell wasn’t even planning to be there. Guess his agent’s been working the phones all week and not getting any takers.”
The NBA commissioner took the podium, silencing the chatter in both the Garden and the sportscaster booth. “With the first pick, the Sacramento Kings select JaMarcus Hightower, from Indiana University.”
The camera switched briefly to Matt Frazier, who’d plastered on a smile the whole world had to know was fake.
“At least he didn’t go number one,” Theo said.
The next pick and each one thereafter took another excruciating five minutes. In between announcements and brief interviews with the players, the studio commentators speculated on the fate of the Harwood duo, who’d so far been passed over by the first eleven teams.
“Frazier looks pissed,” Hank observed. “He ain’t even trying to smile for the cameras anymore.”
After more than a hour into the coverage, Cliff Reynolds, the sportscaster who’d challenged Theo regarding the athletes’ version of events, opined from the sportscasters’ booth, “I can promise you, Ed, these teams will rue the day they snubbed Frazier and Caldwell. Both of these players have the talent to turn a franchise around.”
“What a dick!” Gloria spat. “Talk about tone deaf.”
Ed Wainwright, the second commentator, wasn’t quite so bombastic in his support. “They’re talents, all right. But clearly, teams have done a lot of research on these guys. Let’s go to Derek Osgood for a perspective on what some of these GMs are thinking.”
The screen split to a remote reporter, a crisp-looking preppie type standing on the sidewalk in front of the Garden. “Thanks, Ed. I’ve talked to about ten sources in the league today and they’re all saying the same thing. Frazier and Caldwell are toxic.”
“Woo!” Theo yelled, adding a fist pump.
“I just don’t get that,” Reynolds whined. “What’s their deal exactly? I know there’s talk out there about the DA filing charges, but I have to think if these players were going to be arrested, it would have happened already. The evidence just isn’t there. It’s all going to come down to who you believe—there’s not a single witness who can claim they saw what went down.”
Philip huffed. “That’s right. It’s just a video, dickhead.”
“And even if charges are filed,” Reynolds went on, working himself into a lather, “there’s no certainty they’ll be convicted. Are you telling me there aren’t two GMs out there willing to take a chance on guys this skilled with a basketball? This whole fiasco could go away tomorrow and nobody’s going to have the right to sign them.”
“Douche bucket!” Gloria screamed.
“What part of toxic don’t you understand, Cliff?” Osgood retorted with a chuckle. “Convicted or not, no one I’ve talked to wants to take a chance on angering their fan base, particularly their female fan base. GMs are telling me their wives have watched that video too, and they aren’t happy with what they saw. It doesn’t matter how skilled Frazier and Caldwell are, convincing families to come out and get behind a player who participated in an incident like that…let’s just say that’s a hard sell for the ticket office.”
Ed interrupted. “Let me jump in here. I’ve just been alerted that Matt Frazier has left the Garden with his family. We don’t know if he got a call from his agent…or maybe someone in the league. Whatever the reason, we’re down to the eighteenth pick of the night, and he’s apparently decided to sit the rest of this one out.”
Jalinda suddenly blurted, “That’s right, jerk wad. Go home and watch with Caldwell. You’re both nobodies again.”
* * *
It couldn’t have been a better night as far as Theo was concerned. Good food, good friends, good times. And a pair of assholes getting their due.
Best of all, Celia seemed to have hit it off with everyone. She’d laughed heartily at Hank’s absurd story of busting into what he suspected was a drug deal, only to find a white collar junior executive learning dance moves from a couple of gang bangers. And she’d listened intently as Philip and Sofia described their birthing plans in intimate detail. But her best connection was clearly with Gloria. They shared a scholarly curiosity about the world and the joy of their role in shaping it.
True, Celia was an experienced actress who could put on whichever face she wanted. If this was an act, it was Oscar-worthy.
Theo waited for a lull in the conversation. “Celia, I think you should tell everyone about your first job.”
“I can’t believe you brought that up!” she squealed.
She watched their faces as Celia revealed her Hollywood career. The only hint of recognition came from Philip, who vaguely remembered his younger sisters watching the show. All the others were too old or too young to know of
Little CeCe
.
“I think we’re all actors to some degree,” Gloria said. “We want to make people believe everything we say is absolutely real. Teachers perform every time they step in front of a lecture hall. And Theo…you should see her in front of a jury. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of those people come out of the courtroom feeling as bad as the victims.”
Celia nodded along with every word. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? I’ve seen her on TV. You’d think after thousands of years of developing ways to communicate, our bullshit detectors would be more attuned. We’d recognize the cues and know when someone was trying to manipulate us.”
Theo planted her hands on her hips. “Excuse me, did you just accuse me of being a bullshitter?”
“Not you,” Gloria explained. “Or not
just
you. Everybody. Only the extremely naive trust everything they hear. The rest of us wonder if what we’re hearing is a brazen lie, or if it’s only selectively true because we don’t have the whole picture.”
Hank laughed. “That’s practically my job description. Except I don’t wonder about shit. I know most people I talk to are lying about something.”
“But it’s all in the performance,” Celia added. “Some people are really, really good actors. Everything that comes out of their mouth feels real.”